


A Nights Work

by SilverWhiteRaven



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humanstuck, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 08:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12477628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWhiteRaven/pseuds/SilverWhiteRaven
Summary: This is an Introduction I wrote for a Super Hero Roleplay I was in, in this case the character used is Psiioniic/Helmsman from Homestuck with a unique personality from others' headcanons (a villain, to summarize). This is an act of violence he commits for the sake of self indulgence, and has no care for the thoughts of others. (His powers are restricted in this context because of power limits in the RP, otherwise there would be differences in his usage)





	A Nights Work

A man walks down a street in the rundown lowland district, seeming out of place. He was tall as six foot eight, more lank than muscle, light hair combed back and thin-rimmed glasses settled on his face over golden eyes. In a way, for where he was and how he seemed, he looked to be an easy and worthwhile target. Speaking of worthwhile targets, that is exactly why this person is here. Not to be one, no, but to find one.

Doctor Psi Captor has the patience of a gator sitting in wait for prey to come close enough to snatch. His wait soon pays off, luck coming his way in the form of a faded, bright green truck. Two people sat in that truck, both males. He watches the speeding vehicle come towards him, and once it was close enough, he reaches out with his powers, eyes glowing red and blue for but a moment as he does what he needs.

The pickup truck suddenly blows a tire, veering to the side, out of control from the driver. It crashes into the corner of a building, stopping dead. The engine soon starts to smoke, pieces of the truck littered around. Psi approaches the ‘accident’ with casual stride, pulling the passenger door open without touching it. He reaches in, checking first their pulses, then their injuries. He sighs, a little disappointed in the condition of the driver. He was dead, of course, head smashes by the top of the steering wheel, the airbag inactive. It was faulty it seems, what a waste. But the passenger.. His had worked. He was even still conscious, barely.

The doctor removes a filled syringe from his pocket, uncapping the needle and giving it a little tap. The man in the passenger seat groans, trying to sit up and look around, blood streaming from his nostrils. Psi tsks and shakes his head, holding him steady. “Try not to move young man, you were just in an accident.”

The other looks confused, looking around as best he can before a panic starts to set in. “Wh- what happened, is Nicky okay? Wh- who are you?”

“Hush hush, you'll be fine. After all,” he adds, raising the syringe and putting it close to the manes neck, out of sight, “i'm a doctor.” The needle presses into the man’s neck, breaking through the skin. His eyes go wide in shock, but quickly fade and close as the anesthetic floods his brain. 

Psi then unbuckles the man from his seat, carefully pulling him out. He closes the door again, nice and tight. The blood from his friend covers the fact that there was two people in the vehicle. This was just an accident by an uncareful driver.

Psi lifts the man from the ground, carrying him in his arm, making him lighter by using his powers, and away from the crash.

~~~

Using alleys and unpopulated areas, Psi carries the unconscious man, and eventually makes it to his... lets just say, personal space, in a very nice, nondescript part of town. He goes in, locking the doors behind him, and walks down the darkened halls into a room, spotless and clean, the only light coming brightly from above a padded steel operating table. He lays the man down, on the table of course, checking him to be sure he was still alive. With a satisfied nod, he positions the man’s body and tying him down to the table with padded leather straps.

When he's done, having used his hands to tie the man down to conserve his powers, he walks over to a corner in the shadows, pulling out a small rolling table, its surface lined neatly with surgical tools. He goes off one more time after taking a quick sample of the man’s blood, then soon returns with an IV pole, fresh blood bags of correct type hanging from its hooks, waiting to be used. The man on the table won't be waking up anytime too soon, though, not that Psi minded having a little audience during a procedure. But this might take a while.

Psi truly begins, starting with the simple task of removing the clothing of his ‘patient’ with heavy duty scissors. Interesting, there was bruising on his chest, likely from the crash. Before checking on that, he hooking up the IV lines into various parts of the unconscious man, and for now they remained closed, since no blood was needed. Always good to be prepared though, no? He returns his attention to the man’s chest, gently prodding over it with fingers. Broken ribs. Tsk. no big deal, just a slight inconvenience. Time to start then.

Psii steps back, he doesn't like his hands getting dirty, and it's convenient that you can do something to someone without touching them. No evidence, no crime. His eyes begin to glow red and blue once more as various tools lift from the tray, beautiful and deadly as can be. He cleans and sterilizes the man’s torso front around the area he plans to work, though it is not the only place just yet. A scalpel goes to the person’s abdomen, pressing in and splitting the skin with ease as it travels up. Large beads of blood form, but none yet severe enough to warrant attention. He cuts a Y into the man’s skin, using small clamping tools to grab the corners and pull them away.

His muscles were bruised too, what a shame. He cuts slits through the muscles, avoiding what he can of large veins, and using much smaller holds to keep the larger ones from bleeding out. One of the IV blood drips is twisted on, a precaution. He finds and exposes each of the broken ribs, using various tools to move and set each chunk and fragment, checking that each has not punctured something vital. He uses small screws and metal plating to hold pieces of bone in place, then used disintegratable thread to properly and neatly close the cuts in the muscles, being sure to reopen the sealed blood vessels and do the same to keep them together. He will have to remind the man when he wakes not to mess with anything, or do any extreme movements.

All of that had taken much time to do, already it's been well over a few hours. He takes a moment to ponders the identity of the person on his slab as he sews shut the skin of his chest, glancing towards the pile of removed clothes. He shrugs, finding that he doesn't actually care. But he did notice one thing, something off, about the bones. They seemed very brittle compared to regular ones of a man his size and age, more damage than the crash should have caused.

No matter, he will think on it later. Though, he has a feeling doing so will come back to bite his ass, but he doesn't care, so the bite won't be all that big. Once he is done stitching the flesh back together and covering it neatly in bandages, he unstraps the man from the table, going over to very, very carefully turn him over, and strap him back down. A few moments later, just as Psi starts to clear the man’s sides and back, there's a faint groan.

“Ah, awake are we? Well, don't worry, you're in good hands.” He chuckles, because clearly, his hands aren't as ‘good’ as they are bad.

He finishes sterilizing the back and sides of the slowly waking person, then gets right to work splitting him open down the line of the spine. The man feels very little, likely just a slight tickling. The anesthetic was still working wonders. Inaudible talk comes from them, but Psi ignores it and continues on, exposing spinal bone and the muscle tendons connecting to it.

“My chest.. It hurts..” Oh look, something understandable besides useless moans.

“To be expected, don't move or you’ll make me mess up. Don't want that now do we?” He continues on, in fact, he very much goes to remove several muscles from their hold along the spine. He has plans, and he is doing some very interesting things. This was just a warm-up.

And then, of course, like any moment that seems to go well, something goes wrong. The dear, sweet patient suddenly comes to, panicking at the sudden realization that where he was was not a normal place, and he was indeed being restrained. He he starts struggling, panic growing as he finds there are parts of him he now can't move. Doctor Psi tsks and shakes his head. “You're being uncooperative, you should stop that before something regrettable happ-”

A strap breaks loose, and the man is quick to shift himself far enough to topple the entire table, the sound of breaking bones obvious. Psi sighs as the man yells desperately for help. The rest of the ties let go, and the table and other equipment is backed away.

“Really, you're being a pain..” He approaches, watching him. The other doesn't seem to notice, continuing to crawl at a snail's pace, yelling, and coughing blood. He contemplates putting the man under again. No, a waste of time and effort, it was clear that the man was bleeding to death, inside and out. A waste of effort to continue doing anything with someone that clearly has a disease of weak bones. If a fall from a table can kill him, then there is no point in saving his life.

So he lets him die. It took a little while, but it happened, Psi glancing at his watch every few minutes or so. Soon there is stillness, soon, there is silence.

Psi uses his powers to lift the body, since, now that it was no longer alive, he could affect it fully. He takes it into another room where he slowly and carefully tears it apart. He turned it into smaller and smaller pieces, finding as he went that little to none of the remains was useful to him, unworthy of being stored away for future use.

It was satisfying to separate the skin from fat, fat from muscle, muscle from bone. The tearing and snapping of the delicate layers being held together with weak tissues was always a favorite moment to Psi.

He continued on until soon enough he had pulled apart the entire body, piling it all into separated parts. One picked apart pile after another, they all went into a large, strong, steel bladed blender with enough power to smoothie a man. All but the bones, added only after it all was a smooth paste, having been snapped and crushed, almost powderized by Psi's powers.

If anyone ever said they didn't like his methods, well, he doesn't care what they thought, thought it may just raise their chance of ending up on the table then into the blender, too.

When finished, each and every gallon of the man is sealed in a container, and set to freeze. When Psi has the time, he will dispose of them in any manner suitable. For now, he leaves the rooms, going down the halls to a place where he can clean himself up, not that there was much on him at all. He was good at what he does, after all.

But no man is perfect. He knows one day he’ll be caught. And he will be perfectly fine with it. Mostly. But today is not that day. And he will enjoy every minute of what he has left.

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoy sharing this work to show my semi skills in writing. Please feel free to comment!


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